#soft mace

And how he would slowly but steadily creep into your heart, seep into your mind like a thick fog.

And you’d never expected that he would feel the same way, once you realized what was happening.

But he did, he still does, and although it complicated everything, you both ultimately gave in to your urges.

Even though you both knew it wasn’t a good idea, that it was frowned upon, practically against the rules.

“Icarus,” Mace says as he nips on your shoulder, his lips a gentle contrast to his teeth, “Lock the door to the lab and let us know if anyone tries to come in. Understood?”

“Yes, Mace,” Icarus replies dutifully upon the command.

“See?” He whispers, his lips making their way upwards, finding the spot right below your ear as he presses his chest against your back, “We’re fine. We won’t get caught.”

You chuckle and shake your head in amusement, your fingers carefully maneuvering the seeds in your hand, “Mace, I have work to do. So do you.”

He scoffs, his hands circling around your waist, “Work can wait.”

You laugh, an amused sound that makes him smile against your neck because he loves the melodic tune so much, it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t think I would ever hear those words come out of your mouth,” You say, placing the seeds in a small container before closing the lid, “You’re always working.”

“i was always working,” he corrects, placing his head on your shoulder, his eyes following the movements of your small fingers as they grab for another container. He leans into you more, the warmth of his body seeping into your bones as he holds you close, “It’s hard to concentrate now.”

“Why?” You ask, a tilt of your head as you listen to his words, doing your best to multitask.

“My mind wanders,” he mumbles, his one hand reaching out for a liquid out of your reach when he notices your need for it. He places the glass jar with the clear liquid in front of you before his hand goes back to its former position, his fingers softly caressing your waist as his arms are wrapped around you.

“It wanders?” You ask with furrowed brows, pouring fertilizer into the liquid as you inquire further, “What do you mean it wanders?”

“Means I can’t focus,” he says, his voice more quiet now, “It.. Wanders.”

“Huh,” you say, out of confusion more than anything, “And it didn’t use to do that?”

“No,” he quickly replies before trailing off, his words barely above a whisper, “It definitely didn’t..”

“What changed?” You chirp, your eyes completely focused on the work you’re doing. You don’t notice how his arms tighten around you at the question, or how his eyes flicker down to look at how your fingers move, how beautiful they are.

“I guess it just found something else it liked thinking about more than science..”